Pin Drop (Sherlock x Reader)

Fact or Fiction

"Miss Me?"

It was like he was taunting us. Trying to get a reaction from us or more specifically me. He wanted me to do something. I didn't understand. I tried to stand from the couch only to fall back down because the room was spinning.

"Where do you think you are going?" John asked turning the television off. Sherlock crouched down so he came to my height as I sat on the couch clutching my head. He looked me over like he was analyzing. Which he probably was.

"She knows that place." He stated. Well no shit I knew that place. I was there last night. Or at least I thought I was. I didn't know anymore. My whole world was spinning. I couldn't distinguish between reality and fiction. Did I dream that interaction or did it actually happen? Maybe only a part of it happened. There definitely weren't hundreds of him. There was only one. That one was supposed to be dead. Or so the wonder twins told me.

"Sherlock get out of my face before I kick you." I groaned and laid back down. There was no way I was going to be able to get to the crime scene. Not like this at least. Mary walked into the room some tea in hand. I was thankful at least one person here had brains. I sat up a little so my back was against the arm rest.

She handed me the steaming mug before walking out of the room. I presumed she was going to John's room because she had walked up the stairs. Her steps got quieter until they were almost no sound except the creak of the floor boards above us.

"Why do you know that place?" Sherlock was back to analyzing me. I took a long sip of the tea and closed my eyes willing it to clear my senses faster. His voice was beginning to get on my nerves. "John? Turn the television back on."

Soon the roomed filled back up with sounds of the news report. "Early this morning a townhome on Restchure Road exploded to what people are assuming to be a simple gas line break but the paint in the street would tell us a different story. For those of you who remember the notorious criminal, is the one and only Jim Moriarty back from the dead or is it just a copy cat? Stay tuned for more breaking news." Commercials began to play on the screen in which John hit the mute button. My eyes opened to both of them looking at me intently.

"I know that place because it's the place Jim kept me. Now leave me be so this head ache subsides." I groaned and took another long sip of tea. It was warm and slowly warmed my dry cold throat. I felt Sherlocks eyes still on me as I heard John sigh and walk up the stairs in which Mary had disappeared.

"You are interesting. I can't read you as well as I can others. It intrigues me." Sherlocks honesty made me question him for a moment. I sighed and opened my eyes. I set the mug down on the floor and rubbed my temples. "Why were you kept there?"

"Because I refused to kill you." My answers were short. His questions kept coming anyways.

"Because you refused to kill me? So why show up here last night strapped to a bomb?"

"Because, I had no choice." I sighed and looked him in the eyes. "I didn't know he had died. Or that everyone thought he died. The door unlocked and written instructions were waiting for me along with clothes and the bombs. I was told what to do. I did it. Or at least tried to."

"Why?"

"He has leverage."

"What is his leverage."

"It is none of your concern."

He sighed and so did I. I continued to rub my temples and he moved to sit on the couch. Gently he moved my feet out of the way and sat down draping them back over his own legs. The closeness of him to me made my breath catch for a moment. His eyes shut in thought for a moment.

"Do you still have them?" I shook my head and he sighed.

"I remember what they said though. It isn't much help but I can put them down on paper. Give me a pen and a pad." I instructed him to do it and he handed me both things after resuming his position on the couch. I wrote them for him and handed the paper and pen back. He read out loud.

"1- change, 2- strap bombs to vest, 3-go to 221 b baker street, 4- detonate bombs after signal." He pondered what he was reading as he read.

"I never received the signal which is why I let you take care of them. I think he has something planned Sherlock." Genuine worry filled every fiber of my being when I admitted this. It scared me that he scared me. That just the thought of him was enough to make me cower in fear. He had control of me and he knew it.

"He can't have a plan, he is dead." Sherlock deadpanned.

"Yeah, except he's not. I talked to him last night. At least I think I did. I am not sure. I had to much alcohol and drugs in my system this morning for me to really distinguish between fact and fiction." Sherlocks own fear showed in his eyes as I told him that. The fear of being torn down again by Jim. Almost loosing everyone he cared for all over again. His fake death caused enough misery for John. What would he do now?

I placed on hand on his and gave it a light squeeze. His eyes shot to mine once again and I gave a half hearted smile that even I didn't believe. Our mutual fear radiated around the room while we both just looked into each other. "I won't let him hurt you." I wasn't meant to hear it but I did. Sherlock Holmes wanted to try to protect the person that was supposed to kill him.